I spent some time last week with a ten-year-old friend who is a writer. She was generous enough to share some of her favourite books with me and brave enough to leave three of her writing notebooks for me to read.
Her notebooks reminded me of my ten-year-old self – and myself now. So many notebooks full of fragments, half-written ideas and stories.
Our conversation made me pull out some of my old diaries and notebooks – I have kept them all. (They take up a lot of room, too!) They were special to me then and still are now, because it reminds me that some dreams never die, even if they’re over thirty years old.
Thank you, Grace, for lending me your favourite books and sharing your stories, and for reminding me that writing dreams are to be cultivated, respected and worked on at any age.
